


get it out of your system, piers

by chrisker nivanfield (nnivanfields)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Chris, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Top!Piers, all these porny tags, and i may turn it into a chaptered work, we shall see, with y'know actual story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25338943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnivanfields/pseuds/chrisker%20nivanfield
Summary: they're both into it, so it's been a long time coming. too bad that's all it's going to be.nivanfield pwp
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	get it out of your system, piers

**Author's Note:**

> been working on a much less sexually-driven chaptered work, but every so often, i get the urge to write shit like this. you guys are gonna hate me for how much porn i write outside of my chaptered shit.

If you were to ask Piers how he wound up like this, he would likely not be able to answer you. It just…happened. For the life of him, he can’t remember what it was Chris had said to land them in this situation, but it hardly matters when you’ve got your captain pinned up against the door of a bathroom stall and your hand is in his pants.

Piers is a civilized human being, and he’s also a dedicated member of the BSAA. His attraction to Chris has never seen the light of day because he knows better than to try his professional luck with a romantic relationship in a job as important as his. And up until now, he hasn’t exactly tried deluding himself into thinking that Chris would reciprocate.

Fighting bioterrorism isn’t something you really have time to take a break on, anyway. Even in the best-case scenario that Piers confessed his feelings, Chris happened to feel the same way, and the BSAA didn’t give a shit that they were together, it isn’t like Piers would be able to enjoy it any. He and Chris are both hardworking men who he doesn’t doubt for a second would put the job before any personal time between the two of them, and their relationship would become nonexistent and fruitless over time, anyway.

Does that make casual sex any better?

Does this even _count_ as casual sex?

Piers can feel Chris getting harder beneath the hand that’s palming him through his underwear, so he thinks that maybe it does. The crook of the captain’s neck is red from Piers sinking his teeth into the skin. He’s sucking at the bite now, and the way Chris growls in approval only spurs him further.

“Didn’t mean we had to do this _now_ , Piers…” Chris manages, his forehead resting against the metal of the stall door.

Right, _that’s_ what happened. That little _shithead_ of a new recruit had popped off and said the wrong thing about Finn, and Piers had snapped and put him into a chokehold. It’s no secret that Piers is a little defensive of the rookie, but he supposes Chris has never seen that side of him before. Piers has never been an impulsive man—his rational thinking has kept him and Chris and his team out of trouble more than a handful of times. But he personally recruited Finn, and if you ask him, the guy’s shyness doesn’t hold a candle to the way he performs during training. Finn Macauley is going to be an excellent soldier one of these days.

In any case, Chris had seen the display right outside of the showers, and he’d made some comment about wanting to put his hands on Piers for that. Initially, Piers had deduced that Chris had meant getting his ass beaten for stepping out of line, but the way their eyes had locked in a stare following those words had resulted in more than just curiosity. Next thing Piers had known, he’d dragged Chris into the showers by the front of his way-too-tight white tee shirt, led him into one of the bathroom stalls, shut it, and gotten more than just a little handsy.

It’s never going to be anything more than this, though. Neither of them have the time for it to be. Chris knows that, and so does Piers. But if his recollection is accurate, Chris had _definitely_ meant he wanted the clothes to come off and Piers had _definitely_ been willing to oblige.

“You want to stop?” Piers questions against the skin on the side of Chris’ neck, and the captain growls in disapproval.

“You’re out of your damned mind,” Chris retorts almost irritably. “Though when I said I wanted to put my hands on you, I meant I wanted to put _my_ hands on _you_.”

Piers backs away in response to those words. Both eyebrows fly high up onto his forehead. He knows for a fact that Chris could have easily broken the hold he’d had on him if he’d wanted to. That in mind, he crosses his arms over his chest and responds simply, smugly, “so do it, then.”

He watches as Chris pivots and faces him. He’s already plenty disheveled, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up on end somewhat from where Piers had gripped him when he’d pinned him there in the first place. His fly is wide open, the tent he’s pitching just barely peeking out over where his pants are sitting a little lower than usual. Piers wants to _devour_ him.

Chris doesn’t move in quite as impatiently as Piers had in order to get them here, but Piers doesn’t think he minds it all that much. Chris is so impulsive, and he operates with his heart on his sleeve. It’s enticing to watch him giving this some thought, for once. He doesn’t back away when Chris raises one of his hands and touches the side of his lieutenant’s face with the back of his hand. Those knuckles brush his cheekbone, and then run along his jaw, before Chris twists his hand and runs his thumb along Piers’ bottom lip.

He looks like he wants to kiss Piers, but that’s where the younger man draws the line. If Chris were to kiss Piers, he would kiss back. He wouldn’t want to _fuck_ Chris simply to fuck him anymore. He would want to let spill all those thoughts he’s ever had about just how much he adores his captain. That in mind, he smirks against the thumb touching his lip.

“Don’t do it, Captain,” he orders simply. “That’s not what this is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris answers just as easily, before he slides his thumb between Piers’ lips and presses it down on his tongue. Piers’ mouth falls open without protest, and then Chris turns his hand once more and slides two fingers into that open mouth. “I was just thinking about how pretty your mouth is—how good you’d look with my cock in it, on your knees.”

Again, Piers raises his eyebrows. Chris has always been bold and unafraid to speak his mind, but right now? There’s no telling who’s going to walk in here while they’re doing this. The best they can hope for is keeping their damned voices down and making anyone forced to overhear simply _wonder_ who is getting it on in their showers.

“You want me to suck you off?” Piers scoffs, resting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” Chris repeats smugly. Something about those words and how quickly Chris has spouted them only turns Piers on more.

He obeys, dropping down to his knees and scooting in close, before he hooks his hands into Chris’ pants and pushes them down to his thighs. “You’d better keep your voice down, then.”

He fully plans on making that a challenge for Chris, too. He mouths at the growing bulge in his captain’s underwear, running his tongue along the clothed erection and leaving a trail of moisture in the process. Chris leans back against the stall door once more, and Piers feels one of those big hands settling in his hair.

“Good boy.”

Piers glances up at Chris in response to those words, a smirk on his lips, before he pulls the older man’s underwear down and sets his cock free from the confines. He curls his fingers around the base of Chris’ arousal, running his tongue along the shaft.

This is _definitely_ something Piers has thought about before—the way Chris’ cock would taste in his mouth. The reactions he might draw out from his captain while he’s blowing him. It’s a shame he’s not going to get to hear Chris moan his name this time around, but at this point, Piers will take what he can get. That in mind, he takes the head of Chris’ cock into his mouth, circling the sensitive skin just beneath it with the tip of his tongue. He suckles at the head for a moment, before he places both hands on Chris’ thighs and goes straight to town, taking as much of him into his mouth as he can.

He knows he’s doing well when he feels Chris’ grip on his hair tighten. Eventually, that grip turns into an outright fist, and Chris attempts to hold Piers’ head steady while he instead bucks his hips forward. Piers doesn’t mind it, so long as his captain uses a little restraint. The thought of Chris fucking his mouth only gets him harder, to be quite honest.

As far as he’s concerned, he’s doing a pretty good job. Chris’ movements grow a little more heated, and Piers only gags once, before he uses his grip on the other man’s thighs and pushes him back against the stall door once more. He feels that hold on his hair tighten, and he doesn’t protest when Chris uses said hold to pull his mouth free from his cock.

Piers _knows_ he looks good. He’s heard it before, being told how fuckable he looks with his lips all swollen and his face flushed, the hint of moisture at the corners of his eyes from choking on someone’s dick adding some life to his pretty face. He doesn’t mind if Chris says it, but he’s got different plans in mind beyond letting Chris bust a nut in his mouth.

Which he’s definitely going to do, because just _look_ at the way Chris is staring down at him. Those eyes look almost black with arousal, and his mouth just barely hangs open in the sexiest goddamned scowl Piers has ever seen. If Chris kept looking at him that way, he’d let him shove his dick straight down his throat all day.

“I knew you were going to be good at this,” Chris praises. “All the shit-talking you do, I knew there had to be something better you could do with that mouth of yours.”

“Talk is cheap, Captain,” Piers warns, bringing a hand up and curling it around the base of his partner’s erection. “You gonna let me finish?”

“Depends,” Chris replies easily enough, wetting his lips with his tongue. Piers is ever-so-briefly overcome with the urge to kiss those lips once more, but he swallows it down in favor of listening to what Chris has to say. “Are you gonna let _me_?”

Piers shrugs, before he leans in and runs his tongue along the underside of Chris’ cock. “Only one way to find out.”

If there’s anyone who thinks Piers backs away from any given challenge, they’ve probably not known the man for long. Those words have spurred him along plenty, and before he knows it, he has dipped back in and taken Chris into his mouth once more. He takes control this time, swallowing Chris’ cock over and over again.

He only needs to pause every so often to catch his breath, but that’s worth it for the way Chris is responding. His grip on Piers’ hair has almost gone limp as he lets his lieutenant go to town on him. Piers bobs shamelessly, breathing through his nose when he can. He digs his nails into Chris’ thighs as he works, raking his fingers down along the toned skin. Chris is all muscle, and Piers _loves_ it.

It’s not surprising to Piers that Chris comes as quickly as he does. With a series of grunts and curses, he takes hold of Piers’ hair once more and thrusts roughly into his mouth, spilling his orgasm right down Piers’ throat. He’s fucking deeply enough that Piers only tastes a little of his release, swallowing the rest easily enough, and afterward, Piers sits back on his knees and wipes the remainder from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Panting, he turns his gaze up to his captain, before he gets up on shaky legs.

“Turn around,” he orders, his voice a little hoarse.

This time, it’s Chris’ turn to raise his eyebrows.

“You’re not finished, huh?” His own voice is just a fraction of a percent weaker than usual, but he doesn’t seem keen on protesting.

“Dick’s still hard,” Piers responds simply, before he gestures for Chris to pivot with a flick of his wrist. “And I plan on doing a lot more than letting you suck on it.”

Chris doesn’t immediately turn around. Instead, he eyes Piers with heightened curiosity, something of a smirk on his lips. “Excuse me?” Piers doesn’t anticipate with that kind of reaction that Chris is all that against it, though.

“You heard me,” he responds, nodding toward Chris. “Turn the fuck around, _Captain_.”

Piers sees the hesitation on the older man’s face, but it doesn’t seem to be in a bad way. In fact, it looks more like Chris is trying to stifle a groan than anything. An achievement on Piers’ part, considering he’d just gotten his captain off moments ago. Can he do it again?

When he finally _does_ get around to responding, it isn’t with words. Chris simply scoffs, before he finally pivots around, pants dropping to his ankles, flattens his palms against the stall door, and bends over. He peers over his shoulder at his partner and bares his teeth in a smirk that’s just downright _sinful_. He knows he looks good, and fuck him for that.

Literally.

“On one condition, Piers,” Chris starts, both eyebrows raised. “You have to keep calling me ‘Captain’ while you’re at it.”

Well, that’s a surprise. Piers hasn’t exactly had sex with Chris before to determine it, but he’d been certain the man wasn’t going to be the type to mix work and…well…this…together. If anything, Piers would have definitely expected him to insist that he try _not_ to call him ‘Captain’ with his dick buried deep inside him.

Piers outright laughs. “What ever happened to keeping our voices down?”

“We don’t have to worry about that if you hurry the hell up,” Chris replies as if it’s nothing. The forwardness of his statement has Piers wondering just how long he’s thought about this. Has he kept himself up at night thinking about it before? Piers can almost picture him writhing around in his bed, his hand jammed into the front of his pajama pants, grunting his lieutenant’s name.

Jesus fucking Christ.

In any case, now is definitely not the time to be worrying about it. Chris has all-but agreed to let Piers fuck him in a bathroom stall, so he’s going to take advantage of the opportunity while he still has it. That in mind, he wets his fingers by sliding them into his mouth and lowers his hand. He plants his other hand on Chris’ ass, giving him a hungry squeeze, while the fingers of his free hand brush against his hole. “Is that what you think about in your free time, Captain? Me fucking you while calling you my superior?”

Chris is still watching Piers over his shoulder as he speaks up. “Something like that, yeah. It’s usually while _I’m_ fucking _you_ , though.”

That’s another mental image Piers doesn’t mind all that much. Chris looks like he probably fucks roughly, but Piers is willing to bet he’s not as aggressive as he comes off to be. He’s probably more of a passionate lover, peppering kisses and praising his partner while he takes them slow and deep, which is exactly why it’s never going to happen. Chris is a romantic. Piers knows better than to travel down that road.

It can never be anything more than what it is right now.

He pushes one finger inside, and Chris grunts a little in response. Piers gives the possibility a few moments of thought that this may be Chris’ first time bottoming, and something about that makes his stomach twist almost painfully.

Nope. Now’s not the best time to be catching feelings. For now, Piers focuses on the careful effort of preparing Chris for what’s to come. It takes some time, but soon enough, his finger is in to the last knuckle. He leans in to rest his forehead on Chris’ shoulder blade as he curls that finger, then slowly pumps it in and out of him.

“You know,” Piers muses around Chris’ careful breathing as he pushes in a second finger, “I’m a little different, I think. I’d rather you say my name. Remind yourself who it is that’s making you feel this good.”

Chris lets out a breathy laugh, his tone almost mocking. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be anything.”

“It’s not,” Piers answers against Chris’ shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you thinking about me in your free time. I don’t want you to forget the way it felt when I fucked you.”

Another scoff falls from Chris’ lips. “Already you’re speaking in past-tense, and you haven’t even gotten started yet. Hurry it up, Piers.”

Piers grins, withdrawing his fingers. “Roger that, _Captain_.” He works open his pants, freeing the erection straining against them impatiently, and spits into his hand. He takes a few seconds pumping himself to slick himself up, and then guides himself to Chris’ entrance. Seconds later, he’s pushing his way inside.

He can’t tell if it’s the fact that he hasn’t been laid in a very long time, or if Chris is just insanely tight, but the heat and friction that surrounds him damn near has his head spinning. He grits his teeth, hissing as he carefully works his way inside, and silently savors the way Chris’ own heavy breathing goes in time with his.

How many times has Piers thought about this? Let his feelings for his captain take him over when he’s lying awake at night or standing alone in the shower? How long has he felt this way? This is no time to go waxing emotional about his affinity for one Chris Redfield, but Piers can’t stop himself from feeling a bit starstruck that it’s actually happening. Something he’d thought was never going to come is here. Sure, it’s taking place in a bathroom stall rather than on a bed with a lot more kissing and touching, but this is as intimate as Piers is going to be able to get with Chris, and he’ll fucking take it.

Whether or not this is Chris’ first time bottoming, he’s _good_ at it. His persistence for more shows in the way he pushes back onto Piers’ cock as Piers works his way in. It doesn’t take long for him to wind up fully sheathed inside, and the next thing he knows, they’re both moving in unison. Chris rolls his hips back to meet each of Piers’ thrusts, and it’s honestly so goddamned perfect that it’s downright unfair.

Piers’ hands move to Chris’ thighs as he steadies the pace and sets a rhythm between them, and Chris matches that rhythm perfectly. Soon enough, they’re moving wordlessly in unison together. It’s not surprising—the two of them have always been able to match each other’s wavelengths without much effort. That’s why they make such good partners on the job. They often don’t have to speak—their communication is effortless and wordless.

God, it feels good. As Piers speeds up the pace somewhat, he finds himself burying his face in Chris’ shoulder blades, grunting against his shirt. It’s taking everything he has in him not to moan outright. A part of him still believes that if they’re stupid enough to get it on in a public place, they at least need to try and keep it down.

But apparently, Chris doesn’t give a shit. As he moves to meet Piers’ thrusts, he grunts out a husky, “what did I tell you, Piers? What do you say?”

Frankly, in any other situation, Piers would have been happy to call Chris ‘Captain’ over and over again while he was fucking him. He’d be happy to do so now. But the instant someone walks in and hears that…there’s no telling what that might spell out for them in the future.

“C’mon, Piers…” Chris growls. He reaches back and takes hold of Piers’ hair once more.

Piers is rapidly finding he likes the aggression with which Chris grips his hair. Again, he wonders what Chris would be like if the tables were turned. It’s hard to imagine he’d still be the same, demanding, hair-pulling bastard he’s being right now, but Piers can’t say he’d complain.

Not that he’s going to get to, because this is never going to happen again. That’s just the way things are. Piers will keep reiterating that to himself until he’s convinced.

“Shut up,” Piers groans into Chris’ shirt, snapping his hips forward almost violently. He didn’t realize he’d done so at the right angle, but he’s not mad about it when that particular thrust elicits a sharp moan from Chris.

“What…” Chris pants, his grip on Pier’s hair unwavering despite the sudden new wave of pleasure. “What did I tell you to call me while you were fucking me?”

God…that’s unfairly hot. Chris himself is unfairly hot. Piers is fighting a losing battle, and he can feel it in his bones.

“C…Captain—” he grunts as he angles his hips to hit that same spot over again. “Captain—fuck, you feel good…”

“’Atta boy,” Chris praises, before he moves once more to meet Piers’ thrusts.

Sex in a bathroom stall isn’t exactly ideal, but with the way things are going right now, Piers isn’t complaining. He’s still giving Chris what he wants, but other than the occasional curse or breathy moan of his captain’s title, he’s silent. It’s just the sound of skin on skin, Chris’ own panting breaths, and the heat and sweat and intensity building between the two of them.

Piers can’t count the number of times he’s had his hand on his own cock thinking about a potential moment like this. It’s not something he’s ever let come out into the open for professional reasons, but so far, nobody has interrupted them. If Piers wasn’t currently so occupied with how _good_ he feels right now, he might consider himself lucky.

He’s pulled from his one-way thoughts when Chris takes hold of one of his wrists and slides it around his waist, to his own erection. He’s gone from panting and cursing to grunting with each thrust, and right now, Piers wishes he could see his face.

“C’mon, Piers…I’m so close.”

Piers knows exactly what he wants, and he’s happy to oblige. As they’re moving, he matches his thrusts with pointed strokes on Chris’ cock. He likes the way it feels in his hand. Finds himself picturing how it might feel to slide into bed behind Chris and pump him straight to orgasm. He wouldn’t even need to get off, himself. Just hearing the way Chris responded would be enough.

For now, though, he focuses on what he’s doing—on the way his actions have Chris’ grunts and curses and panting mentions of Piers’ name turning into outright moans. With a choked groan of his subordinate’s name, Chris finishes, and Piers feels him twitching in his hand. His release spills out over Piers’ fingers, and his body constricts reflexively, effectively sending Piers over the edge with him.

God, it’s so good. It’s so fucking good. Piers pulls out just in time for his own orgasm to splatter onto the floor between the both of them. He uses his free hand to finish himself off fully, and then he relaxes against Chris’ back. They’re both left struggling to catch their breath, panting heavily in that bathroom stall.

Jesus…

Piers feels Chris move first, and steps back as his captain pivots around. Chris kicks his pants off entirely and sheds his shirt, gesturing to the nearby showers. Piers looks up and notices how flushed Chris’ face is. He’s more than a little disheveled, and the crook of his neck is an angry red that is probably going to turn into a bruise—one that he’ll inevitably have to find a way to cover up.

Whoops.

“You should’ve dragged me in there so we could wash up afterward,” Chris teases. “I’m going to go do that now.”

Piers, still breathless, offers a quick nod in response. He should probably do the same thing, honestly. You know, in a different shower stall than Chris’. As much as he’d like to share one with the guy, this is as far as they go. “Yeah…good point.”

Chris looks like he’s about to walk away, but he stops short. “Piers.”

Again, the lieutenant looks up to meet his captain’s gaze, but he instead finds himself on the receiving end of a kiss. Chris sweeps in and cups the sides of Piers’ face in both hands, and everything spins. More than any sexual fantasy Piers has ever had about his partner, he’s thought about what it might feel like to be able to kiss him. He’s not disappointed.

In fact, it makes him angry just how good it is, because they _just can’t._

He’s left gawking as Chris walks away, and like a smitten schoolboy, he brings a hand up to touch at his own lips while he watches his captain head for the shower.

…Damn it.


End file.
